He's Braver Than You Think
by amnaangel12
Summary: What started out as a normal (or what normal could be to a group of enhanced individuals) day at the compound suddenly becomes a lot darker when the Avengers find out a secret of Peter Parker's past. AKA - The Avengers find out about Peter's babysitter.


**Hi guys,**

**I just want to say that, fortunately, I have never gone through the traumatic experience this fic explores, nor do I know anyone who does, and therefore the reactions of the victims may not be accurate. I just really like Skip fics and always wanted to write one of my own after reading the PSA comic myself. I sincerely apologise if this may offend or trigger anyone due to any inaccurate portrayal.**

**Also, I know this is said a lot and is more easily said than done but if you are being hurt (whether physically or emotionally) by someone then do tell an adult or anyone who can help. The first step to feeling better is having someone who you know will listen to you. Mental health is just as important as physical.**

**Be safe and have a nice day :)**

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME BARNES?" Clint yelled as he was, for the fourth time in a row, blue shelled by Bucky. "How are you so good at this? You're like a hundred years old."

"Maybe it's just 'cause you're so bad, Barton," Bucky smirked as the leader board was brightly displayed on the screen.

"Don't be so upset, Clint," Natasha called from her position on the couch, "you're still a champion to me."

"Shut up," the archer grumbled, crossing his arms and pouting childishly.

"Hey," Bucky said, grinning, "treat your elders with some respect."

"Oh, I'll show you 'respect' you -" then he proceeded to call Bucky a word that made Steve yell 'Language!' from the kitchen. Just in time for the elevator to ding as steel doors shifted sideways to reveal a determined Rhodey dragging along Tony by the cuff of his arm as an amused Bruce Banner watched, the end of his mouth twitching upwards slightly as the resident self-dubbed 'Genius Billionaire' acted as if he was a man condemned to the guillotine.

"RHODEY! LET GO OF ME THIS INSTANT!"

"No way in hell, Tones. You've spent about 5 hours in that lab and haven't eaten a single thing since you went in there."

Tony scoffed, "that is an exaggeration. F.R.I.D.A.Y, tell him."

"Certainly, Boss," his A.I said, her voice the epitome of cool and collected as she continued, "You have been in your lab for 10 hours, 43 minutes and 28 seconds before Colonel Rhodes arrived and you haven't eaten a meal in 23 hours, 18 minutes and 30 seconds."

The mechanic silently cursed his traitor of an A.I as every single occupant in the room turned to look at him in varying degrees  
of concern and unamusement.

"Tones…" Rhodey started.

"I have had a meal," Tony exclaimed.

"Boss," the disembodied voice - that was so going to be getting a virus later - stated, "according to my sources, drinking 12 cups of coffee in 5 minutes  
does not constitute as a meal."

"Tony, that is really not healthy," Steve said, emerging from the kitchen with a plate of sliced apples in tow.

"Can it, Capsicle"

"Cap's right, Stark," Clint said, "what sort of example are you setting for your son?"

"For the last time, Katniss. Peter is not my son."

"Funny. How could you tell that it was Peter I was referring to?"

Everyone smirked at Tony's flustered face.

"Anyway," he continued, ignoring his reddening face and everyone's expressions, "I don't want him to take after or look up to me. That kid's better than I'll ever be."

"He is a good kid," Rhodey mused, "you both are good for each other."

"What's the little Web-Head up to anyway," Sam asked, "Isn't he supposed to be here by now?"

"He's probably still doing patrols - looking out for the little guy and all. F.R.I.D.A.Y, be a sweetheart and display the Baby Monitor live footage, would ya."

"Alright Karen, we seem to be done here. Could you please take me to the Tower?" Peter asked as he stood on top of a building overlooking the Queens Boulevard.

"Certainly Peter. Preparing directions for shortest route to the Avengers Tower."

"Thanks Karen," he said as he aimed his right arm at the wall of the building next to him and shot a string of webbing, "you're the best."

"Why thank you, Peter."

The teenager began making his way to the Compound, letting out an occasional whoop between swings, the exhilarating feeling of New York wind whipping past him as he soared above the street never failing to excite him. He was just about to make a turn at a block of apartments when he heard a shout of "Stop! Please!"

Alarmed and concerned, he stuck himself onto the wall surrounding the window where the noise came from and held his ear against the glass.

"Judy, please!" A young voice - probably no older than ten - yelled, frightened and desperate, "Please, I don't want to play this game. I want to do something else."

"Just shut up and stop moving," that was an older voice, female, harsher and firmer, "sit still and I promise you'll enjoy it."

"No, stop. Please. You're - you're hurting me."

Without any further thoughts, Peter pride open the window and burst into the room where he saw a small dark-skinned boy being pinned down by a much older girl. Taking in his blotchy tear stained face, he immediately shot a web, slamming the girl into the wall opposite them with an audible thud.

"Sp-Spider-Man?"

"Yeah, that's - that's me, buddy," Peter said softly now kneeling in front of the boy. "Are you alright?"

"I - I d-don't -"

Seeing that the younger boy was in distress, the older asked, "Do you want to go into the hallway?"

After the boy nodded, Peter slowly held out his hand, breathing in when the younger boy gripped it too tightly, and led them both out of the room and into the brightly lit corridor which had walls adorned with photographs and portraits.

"Hey," Peter said softly, kneeling in front of him, "would it be alright if you tell me your name?"

"T-Trevor."

"Alright Trevor. Do you think you could explain what happened?"

"I - I do-don't," sensing that the boy - Trevor - looked like he was about to breakdown, Peter began softly shushing him, trying to comfort him I'm any way he could.

"Hey - hey - it's alright. It's okay if you don't want to talk about it."

After a few moments, he spoke up.

"I-I didn't understand what was happening, but it didn't seem right," Trevor sniffed tearfully. He used the sleeve of his sweater to dry his eyes before swallowing audibly and quietly continuing. "I'm scared Spidey. I feel like I did something wrong. Is - is this all my fault?"

"No, of course not!" Peter jumped to reply, surprising himself at the loudness of his voice, "don't even think that!"

The two boys stood there in silence before Peter sat cross-legged on the floor, the younger of the them copying him soon after.

"You know, this reminds me of something that happened a long time ago to a boy like you except he lived with his aunt and uncle. To make his aunt and uncle happy, the boy studied hard and didn't have much time for sports or playing with the other kids. He grew up lonely and bullied by his classmates and the only friends he had were the books in the library. Then one day he met a boy who was older than him and they hit it off right away. The two boys spent hours together, becoming closer and closer. The young boy was so happy to have a friend that he could spend time with, especially since he lost his parents earlier and spent a lot of time feeling alone. The older boy's parents were divorced so he lived with his mother so while she was at work, the boys were on their own and the younger boy felt like everything was amazing, he was glad that someone liked him and didn't make fun of his love of reading and science and he was happy to have someone to talk to. But one day his friend got tired of talking; he wanted to play a new game. He showed the boy some adult magazines with pictures that made the boy feel sick and started touching him in a way the boy didn't like. It made him uncomfortable, but the older boy wouldn't stop and the younger boy was too frightened to leave. It made him feel dirty and disgusting, like something was wrong with him. His friend said that those were things that friends did, so he shouldn't have been feeling like that, so he didn't tell anyone. He was scared that if he told someone they'll think that he's dirty or damaged or didn't believe him. His aunt and uncle could tell that something was wrong but he was too scared to tell them, scared that they might hate him because of it. But after a while, keeping it a secret was too much and he told them everything. He was so ashamed to tell but now he feels so glad that he did and do you want to know how I know?"

Meanwhile the residents of the Tower stood in silence, staring at the screen in shock and horror, the implications of Peter's words weighing them down like a ton of bricks

'Please don't be what I think. Please, please don't be what I think," Tony's mind pleaded, the words a mantra inside Tony's head. The room felt like it was shrinking with every word that came out of the mouth of the boy who he considered a son. He must have been on the verge of the panic attack because he felt a soft weight grip his shoulder and turned to meet Rhodey's concerned gaze. It was solid, grounding and a bit too forceful to be comforting but that didn't stop the feeling of acid crawling up his throat and the string of begging voices that submerged his thoughts.

Not Peter. Not my kid.

"Because that boy was me."

And that's all it took. That's all it took for the Invincible Iron Man to lose all composure as he fell to the floor in ragged breaths when his knees lost the little strength they had. He could faintly register the kid's - his kid's - voice suggesting to call the parents of the child he just saved as his eyes fixated on the minute wet spots that appeared on the pristine floor below him.

"Close it, F.R.I.D.A.Y," a firm voice ordered.

"Breathe, Tony." He couldn't. How was he supposed to breathe when the room was so small, when the air was so suffocating, when his brain was consumed by so many voices?

"Because that boy was me."

"Because that boy was me."

"Because that boy was me."

Images of a young Peter flashed in Tony's mind. He must have been so scared. He must have been so alone.

"Guys, I think he's going to have a panic attack."

"Tony. Tones. You gotta breathe."

Somehow his reflexes kicked in, muscle memory allowing his lungs to start ventilating. He looked up, his wide, tear stained eyes to be met with Rhodey's dark, concerned ones. Glancing around the room, he noticed how everyone was looking at him - well almost everyone.

"Where - where's Bruce?"

"He had to leave," Natasha answered cautiously, after sharing a look with Steve, "he had to cool down before the other guy could come out."

Tony swallowed audibly, scrambling a shaking hand up Rhodey's shirt and tightening his grip on his best friend's shoulder to allow himself to get up properly.

"I'm going to the workshop."

"Tones-"

"Please Rhodey," Tony whispered looking down, "I need to be alone."

The rest of the team watched silently as he wordlessly left the room, sleek metallic doors automatically shutting behind him.

"Hey, everyone," Peter's voice called cheerfully as he entered the compound, "sorry I'm a bit late. A cat got stuck up a tree and refused to get dow- hey, where is everyone?"

Peter looked around the room in confusion, noting how the only occupants in it were Clint, Sam and Bucky, who were playing a game of Go Fish, when normally, by this time, everyone in the Compound would be congregated to watch a movie.

"Oh hey, Peter," Sam said, looking up, "Everyone's... Out."

"Out? Where?"

"Nat and Steve are in the gym, Bruce is in his room, Wanda and Vision are in Wanda's room, Rhodes is talking to someone about something and Stark is in his workshop."

"What? Still? What - what about movie night?"

"Something came up," Bucky stated tersely, "we had to cancel."

"Oh," Peter blinked. That's strange. Normally in the off-chance movie night was cancelled, he would at least be notified. "Well, I'm sorry. I wasn't told. I'll just leave and uh go back home."

The three Avengers looked at each other before Clint and Bucky nodded slightly at Sam, who cleared his throat.

"Well, actually Peter, we'd prefer it if you stay here. There's something that we all need to talk about. Um, F.R.I.D.A.Y, could you please tell everyone to come to the common room."

"Certainly, Mr Wilson."

The four of them stayed there in awkward silence before Peter's small, quiet voice cut through the tension.

"You know, don't you." The others turned to look at him, "about Trevor - the boy I helped."

"I-" Sam started before looking around and sighing, "yeah kid. We know."

"Hmph, figures," Peter huffed out a bitter laugh, "So now you guys know about what happened. I suppose it's all going to be different now, huh?"

"Different, how, Peter?" The teen in question turned around to see the rest of his team, his friends, his family, standing by the elevators. Damn that was his only exit. Well, he could jump out the window but he's currently unmasked and that would only delay this inevitable conversation anyway. He cautiously regarded Steve, as it was the super soldier that asked him the question. The man watched him worriedly, calmly, but the Peter could see the bruises on his knuckles, the sheen of sweat that covered his forehead, the deep flush of his cheeks that could only be placed due to strenuous exercise.

"You really expect me to believe that you won't treat me differently after what you heard. Like, like I'm made of glass and one wrong word could shatter me," He gave out a humourless huff as he shook his head, barely registering that a stray tear was making its way down his cheek.

"Peter," Steve said, "you can't just expect us to find out about this and not do anything to help."

"Why? What do you need to help with? It all happened a long time ago. I'm fine now."

"Peter," great, it was Miss Romanoff now, "something like that doesn't just go away. It leaves a lasting trauma."

"Kid, did you even go to therapy?" Sam asked.

"I did, actually," Peter didn't know why he felt so defensive. They were only trying to help, to show that they care. It would've been heartwarming, but he wanted go show them that he's better now. They were the Avengers for goodness sakes! They've definitely gone through worse than what he did and isn't that what being a hero's about - not letting past trauma affect you so that you can focus on superheroing. Sure, he sometimes still gets nightmares about Skip that end up in him waking up in a cold sweat, and yeah he sometimes freezes whenever someone calls him Einstein or gets too close to him but the last thing he needs is his childhood idols pitying him or treating him like he's weak. "Ben and May took me to one after they found out. So really this whole conversation doesn't really need to happen."

"Of ****** course this conversation needs to happen! Some ****** pervert assaulted you!"

Peter really really didn't want to address that voice. That voice that he has come to love and respect so much, that sounds so angry and hateful and biting. He just kept on looking at a spot on the wall opposite him, refusing to meet its owner's eyes.

"Peter Benjamin Parker," the man was in front of him now, "look at me."

He kept on staring.

"Please, Peter," Mr Stark sounded so hurt. He felt so guilty for putting him through this. For putting everyone through this. It was bad enough when May and Ben found out - Ben would spend more time at work, whenever he would pick him up from elementary school it would be in his police uniform and car and he would stare over his school mates, as if assessing whether they were a threat to his nephew, and May couldn't look at him for more than five seconds without looking as if she was going to break down (it's not as if she wouldn't. He may not have had enhanced spider-hearing back then but the thin walls of his bedroom, as well as the door that was to be kept open at all times, meant that he heard every tear his aunt and uncle shed). That's the worst thing about trauma. Not the actual experience (though it does tremendously suck); its the way it affects everyone else around you.

He looked at the man who had done so much for him.

I'm sorry, sir. I'm sorry you had to find out how broken I am.

"Oh, kid," Mr Stark said before engulfing him in a hug. It felt a bit too forceful to be comforting and Peter felt his breath hitch at the pressure on his ribs, but he felt strangely safe. He slowly wrapped his own arms carefully around Mr Stark and buried his head into the crook of his neck.

"We don't think any less of you, Peter," Wanda said softly, sniffling a bit herself.

At Peter's suspicious look towards her, she said, "I don't need to read your mind to know what your thinking."

"Of course we don't," Steve agreed firmly, "we never could."

"What you went through was incredibly traumatic," Sam said, "especially at such a young age. And the fact that you were able to become the amazing person you've become today despite that is incredible. We just want to let you know that we're all here for you. You don't have to go through this alone."

"You know," Peter mumbled, "whenever I went to therapy I used to have this Iron-Man key chain in my pocket and when I would get scared, I used to squeeze it. It was like, like..." He looked at his mentor, "it was kind of like you were there with me Mr Stark. I kept on reminding myself that Iron Man is brave when he fights aliens and saves the world so maybe I could be brave and talk about what happened."

"Peter Parker," Tony said as he wiped away a tear from underneath Peter's eye, "you are braver than I ever will be."

"Than all of us ever will be," Steve said.

Peter blushed under the praise and murmured wetly, "Thanks guys. So now that we got all that stuff out of the way, I don't suppose it's too late for movie night."

Clint let out a bark of laughter, "Of course it's not too late for a movie, kiddo. We can watch anything you like."

...

And that's how Tony found himself with one hand running its fingers through a sleeping spiderling's curls and another holding a large bowl of popcorn. He pretended to ignore the knowing looks that his friends were shooting his way as he kept his eyes fixated on WALL-E and EVE dancing with stars in space. When Peter did start writing in his sleep in discomfort as his eyebrows furrowed, he just continued his ministrations on the kid's scalp and rearranged the Star Wars blanket on his smaller frame.

(There may or may not be a photograph provided by F.R.I.D.A.Y on his private files of the kid snuggling into his chest and wrapping an arm around him in his sleep when he did stop tossing and turning.)

They'll be okay.

The team had a very emotional conversation with May once the kid was fully asleep and tucked in his bed, with more than one person breaking down in tears. They all decided to help Peter get the help he needs and came up with ways to make sure that the kid that stole all of their hearts would never have to go through something alone.

And if Skip Westcott was moved to a maximum security cell the next day with a black eye.

Well, Peter doesn't have to know that.


End file.
